


We never quite thought we could lose it all

by letscountstars



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:22:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letscountstars/pseuds/letscountstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Jehan isn't killed and Grantaire doesn't wake up on time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We never quite thought we could lose it all

**Author's Note:**

> I was in a writing mood today, and this came out. The title is from Ready Aim Fire by Imagine Dragons (the song is also on the soundtrack of Iron Man 3). Also, the quote at the very end is by an anonymous author, so credit goes to him/her.
> 
> To avoid any confusion, Jehan's POV is in italics. For both, their thoughts are enclosed in parentheses.
> 
> Kudos and/or comments are always appreciated :)

_The silence is eerily complete._  
It is far too quiet.

_A name is frozen on his lips._  
He wakes with one person on his mind. 

_Fearing the worst, he runs as fast as his thin legs will take him._  
Through the haze of alcohol, he sees the body pinned against the wall. 

_He runs and runs; to the barricade, to the Musain._  
He stumbles over in disbelief. 

_Among the carnage there, one body stands out._  
The corpse wears a red jacket and clutches a flag in its lifeless hand. 

_Courfeyrac._  
Enjolras. 

_The object of his affections, the beloved centre of their entire group, lies in a pool of his own blood._  
The marble lover of liberty, the Apollonian leader, has fallen. 

_(I never got to tell him that I love him.)_  
(He is the only thing I ever believed in; the only man I ever dared to love.) 

_He falls to his knees and kisses Courfeyrac, ignoring the cold hardness of the cadaver’s lips._  
The cynic breaks; loud, ugly sobs wrack his entire body. 

_Sharp ears then register muffled sounds coming from the second floor._  
He doesn’t care who hears his laments. 

_Cautiously, he climbs the stairs._  
He hears footsteps, but he could care less. 

_He reaches the second floor and finds a familiar face._  
Silence reigns once more; he forces himself to turn around and face whoever has come. 

_Grantaire._  
Prouvaire. 

_The drunkard stares at him with bloodshot eyes._  
The poet who everyone believed to be dead is standing right in front of him. 

_Wordlessly, he approaches._  
He meets him in the middle of the room and embraces him. 

_His arms wrap around his friend as tears begin to stream down his face._  
He continues sobbing into Jean’s shoulder. 

_He takes comfort in being held and having someone to hold on to._  
For that is all he needs at the moment: a shoulder to cry on.

_They stand there for a long time; more than enough time to think._  
Then realization hits him with the force of a cannonball.

_(We’re the only ones left.)_  
(Only two of us survived.)

_His grip on Grantaire involuntarily tightens at the frightening truth._  
He pulls his friend closer; he doesn’t want to let go just yet.

\--------------

"Sometimes you just need someone to be there, so the dark isn't quite so big."


End file.
